Because we are downsizing, GET RID OF IT has been a mantra I have been embracing.

 

 

Or, you know, at least trying to embrace.

And I’ve given away, sold and tossed so very very many bits of this and that.

As I am going through old boxes and high school journals (they’re not going away, so don’t think I’m ditching that goldmine for future novels that I’ll be writing in my “retirement”) I am finding stacks and scads of memories and treasures and trinkets and junk too.

It’s reminded me of a lot of truths.  Some that taste a little bitter going down, some that remind me that memory is a bit unreliable.  (Which is why I am thankful for so many writings and recordings.)

There’s an awful lot that isn’t right in our lives.  (I’m speaking of both our collective lives as the human race and our individual lives as a family in this house.)  Divorce isn’t right.  “Visiting” a parent isn’t right.  Death of my mom so young isn’t right.  Cancer isn’t right.

That is all still true.  It was true yesterday and last week and it will be true tomorrow and next year.

But stacking these piles of memory books and Chat books and photo books into a box to truck over to our new home reminded me of so many things that are right.  (Both collectively as humans and specifically as a family.)

Eating dinner together is right.  Going on adventures is right.  Making silly traditions and funny memories is right.  Laughter is right.  Poking fun at ourselves and choosing the light is right.  Reading books and talking about them is right.

It all piles up.

In memories written down on pages and on our hearts.  In photos printed in white books stacked on our shelves.

 

 

It reminds me of one of my favorite Wendell Berry quotes.

“It’s not right, but it’s alright.”

There’s a lot that’s not right, that will likely never be made right in our lifetimes.

But it’s alright.

 

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